


Duty of Revenge

by cvioleta



Category: Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: Angst, Canon Rewrite, F/M, Romance, and there are a lot of blanks, filling in the blanks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 20:20:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10226486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cvioleta/pseuds/cvioleta
Summary: A rewrite of Joker rescuing Harley mid-Suicide Squad and the aftermath. Mostly prompted by my annoyance at the (obvious heavy cuts) to this portion of the movie which resulted in a Harley that looked like she bounced back from losing the love of her life after one cocktail and 5 minutes of screen time, which madeno damn sense whatsoever.  And you know, why does a nanite-free Harley just go cheerfully back to being under Amanda Waller's thumb and back to Belle Reve?  I don't know about you but if my nanite was disarmed, the last place I'd go is back to a place where they're fond of beating, shocking and force feeding me.  Even Harley isn't THAT much of a masochist.  So, I decided I would take a shot at explaining it in a way that doesn't actually diverge from what happened on screen but just fills in the blanks.  Minor references to things that happened in my other stories, but it's not necessary to read any of them first.  Let me know how you think I did!





	

Harley dived behind the wall grinning from ear to ear.  She’d heard the laughter amid the gunfire, that unmistakable, gleeful cackle that told her he had finally found her.  She knew he would – no matter how long she’d been at Belle Reve, no matter how many times _they_ told her that he wasn’t coming, that he’d forgotten about her…she _knew_.  She knew it was just a matter of time, that there was _no way_ they could outsmart him, could keep her somewhere that he couldn’t find. 

Most women - hell, most _people_ , would have been terrified with bullets screaming all around them, but Harley felt nothing but excitement. They would be together again, because it was meant to be – the one thing in life she could be absolutely sure of, the one thing that had sustained her through the nightmare that had been Belle Reve, through the beatings and the electrical shocks and the force feeding and the mind games. 

Harley saw Deadshot out of the corner of her eye, staring at her neck and giving her a strange look.

“What, I got a hickey or something?”  She put a hand to the chip in her neck, feeling an odd sensation and then nothing.  Then her phone vibrated in her pocket and she pulled it out. 

                _NOW!_

Her mouth fell open in glee.  She saw Deadshot shaking his head at her, concerned.  He was a good guy but he didn’t realize she’d rather die trying to get back to Mr. J. – any day of the week – than live one more moment without him. 

Harley sprung to her feet and started to walk in the direction of the hovering helicopter.  Sparks and explosions were everywhere and she couldn’t help but think it felt like the world was putting on a fireworks show just for them.  She looked up and there he was – even more handsome than she’d remembered.  He stood on the back deck of the helicopter in a black tuxedo, looking for all the world like he was picking her up for a date in an unforgettable way.

He looked so good she could hardly stand it. She strode toward him as he kicked a tethered rope off the back of the copter.

“Hello, baby.” 

Harley’s face lit up at his words.  Dimly she heard Waller screaming as she passed by where she and Flagg were hiding.

“KILL HER!”

And Flagg’s answering scream, above the gunfire.

“Her nanite’s disarmed!”

It was all she needed to hear. That had been the odd sensation!  Harley shed her jacket and took off running down the ledge toward the rope.

“Come on, baby!”  Mr. J was standing at the edge of the copter, smiling at her.  Harley took a flying leap and grabbed the rope, wrapping her legs around it as the copter pulled skyward.  She waved to the team as she left them behind.  _Sorry guys,_ she thought, _but my ride is here.  Time to call it a night!_

As the copter pulled further away, she saw them on the roof across from her.  Deadshot and Waller – and Waller was making him shoot at her.  Would he kill her?  She didn’t think so.  He had a thing for her, there was no denying it, and in a different life she might have welcomed the attention.  In this one, she could think of nothing else but getting up that rope and giving Mr. J something better to do with his mouth than laugh.

Harley saw him aim and heard the shot.  She played along, twirling around and letting it look like she was a limp body, attached to the rope only because her hand was caught in it.  For a second, anyway. 

“Harley!”  The tone in the Joker's voice scared her and she realized he wasn’t in on the joke.  _Ooops, sorry, baby,_ she thought, although she couldn’t help but feel pleased by the abject terror in his voice.  She popped back up, laughing and got back to climbing up the rope.  A few moments later, he was reaching for her and her hand was in his and then she was on the deck with him.

“Puddin!” she cried out, throwing her arms around his neck, and then they were kissing, and it was _real_ , after two years it was real and they were together and his arms were around her squeezing her so tight she almost couldn’t breathe.  They finally broke apart, both grinning idiotically at each other.  “You got all dressed up for me?”

“Oh, you know I’d do anything for you,” he purred.  He leaned in so she could hear him over the noise from the copter.  “By the way, I’ve got some grape soda on ice and a bear skin rug waiting.”

“Yeah?”

Their reunion was rudely interrupted by Jonny yelling from the front of the craft.  “Boss, we got problems!”  With that, the front of the copter exploded into flames. 

“This bird is baked,” the Joker observed unnecessarily.

They looked down and saw that the rooftops weren’t far off.  Perhaps they had a shot…

“Okay honey – it’s me and you!”  He took her hand, preparing to jump together when the moment was right. 

Her face lit up, her love for him written plainly upon it.  “Let’s do it!”  There had been _so many_ times she thought it was all over for her, and she knew it would happen eventually, but looking at him now, she regretted nothing.  If anybody could get them out of this alive, he could.

Suddenly, a much larger explosion rocked the helicopter and the force broke the grip between their hands.  Harley found herself flying through space and heard the Joker’s anguished howl.  Then she hit the roof, feet first, but the force of the landing sent her forward.  Her gymnastics training kicked in and she tucked and rolled, finally coming up on her feet again and running to the edge of the roof as the copter descended down and slammed into a building in an explosion of flames and black smoke.  Her legs went out from under her and she sunk down on her bloody, skinned knees, holding on to the ledge in front of her in disbelief and shock.

He had to have jumped, right?  _He had to have_.  He was ready to – but with the other explosion maybe he didn’t have time, maybe it all happened too fast. 

She knelt there for a long time, straining her eyes, hoping to see something move, hear something, something that might give her hope.  Harley folded her hands on the top of the ledge and bowed her head.

_Dear God, I know I’ve done a lot of bad things and I don’t deserve being listened to please please please he can’t be dead he can’t be dead if he’s dead please take me too because I can’t do this, I can’t, anything but this.  Do whatever you want to me but not this._

She knelt there as the rain came down and blended with her tears and her bruised body started to stiffen up and hurt.  He had just been talking to her, he had just been holding her, he had just been kissing her…he could not be gone. 

Harley opened her eyes and staggered to her feet, her knees screaming.   She had to go look at the crash.  She was terrified of finding him dead, of seeing something that would haunt her forever, but she _needed_ to see it, she needed to know.  She found the door to the building and ran down the stairs into the parking garage below and out again into the cold rain.  Harley looked both ways. It looked like a war zone, with the aftermath of explosions everywhere, burned out vehicles and the remains of a second chopper.  She saw no one alive as she walked the couple of blocks to the crash site, hardly daring to breathe.  Her old psychiatry training started to play in her head, all the reasons why it was best for loved ones to view the body even in the event of a traumatic death.  It was an unwelcome soundtrack.

_…viewing helps in the grieving process, because bonds with the deceased need to be severed so that the survivor can make new attachments…_

As if she would get attached to anyone or anything ever again.

_…seeing the body can help bring home the reality of the loss…_

_Shut up,_ she thought. 

In a few minutes she was there, among the smoldering metal that had been the Chinook only twenty minutes earlier.  She saw a hand sticking out of the rubble, but it wasn’t his. Too small.  The back of the helicopter where he had been was a mess of twisted metal and ash and despite the rain, it was still hot.  Harley found a stick and poked through it, gingerly. 

She gasped when she her search revealed something white but realized a second later it was merely fabric.  She pulled the corner of it and it came free, dust and ash falling off as she shook it. 

It was the white carnation he’d been wearing on his jacket.  She pressed it to her lips, ignoring the soot and dirt that remained on the fabric.  Harley felt the tears start up again, the hot pressure building behind her eyes.  Her head ached.  He was probably buried underneath all of the rubble and she had no way to move it. It wasn’t _fair_ , it wasn’t the way he should have gone out.  They should have gone out together, in a fight with the Bat or taking down the Enchantress or blowing up Belle Reve…something grandiose, glorious, memorable.     

Then his voice came to her again, something he had said long ago.  _There is no honor in weakness._  He told her that back when Selina was first training her to fight and she was stiff and sore and whiny about it, because after all, practicing psychiatry and typing reports didn’t exactly keep you in fighting shape and it had been a hard adjustment at first. 

She might be dead inside, but she could still fight, she could still do something honorable.  _Revenge_.  

Play nice.  Rejoin the squad. Only that would give her the access to kill Amanda Waller, and Amanda was going to die in some way that was _unimaginably_ painful.  She needed to personally experience every bit of pain she had caused, and there were no words for what Harley was feeling right now.  Pulling out all of Waller’s fingernails and toenails – ten times over – wouldn’t even _begin_ to settle this score.

 _An eye for an eye,_ Harley thought.  She knew Mr. J would want it that way.  She stuffed the carnation into her bra and climbed slowly up on the nearest wrecked vehicle, a BMW that had collided with a police car in the chaos, to contemplate her next move. 

She was going to have to put on one hell of an act.  Despite her emotional state, her logical mind kicked in and began to plot.    _Can’t have them thinking I’m back for vengeance,_ she thought.  She felt for the choker around her neck and took it off.  Much as she wanted to wear it forever, it didn’t fit into her rapidly forming plan – one in which she was every bit the needy, psychotic doormat they believed her to be.  It was only a piece of leather and brass.  Her loyalty was so much more than a piece of jewelry.  With a last look at it, she threw it into the street. 

Just then, she saw Deadshot and the others coming toward her. 

 _It’s showtime,_ she thought.  She wiped her eyes and stretched out in a dramatic pose on the top of the car, and put a fake smile on her face.

“Hey guys, I’m back!”  Even she was impressed with how cheerful she managed to sound.  “I missed you all so much.”

“We’re glad you could make it,” Deadshot replied, coming over to help her down from the car.  He swung her to earth and set her down, and they exchanged a look, both understanding that they would talk later, when there wasn’t so much company.   He’d help her, she was sure of it.  He’d already shown his loyalty to her by not shooting her, and if she had to bat her eyelashes a time or two to get revenge, well, it wouldn’t be the first time she’d come on to someone to get a job done.

“Hey, craziness.”  Harkness tossed her bat back to her and she caught it, turning it over in her hands.  Yet another gift from Mr. J.  She almost began crying again but she stuffed it down, swallowing hard. 

_There is no honor in weakness._

She would not be weak.  Harley caught Chato’s eye as she passed by and it stopped her for a second.  He’d recognized it, saw what was going on behind her eyes, saw the wheels turning.  And he’d looked at her with respect. 

Harley filed that away for future reference as she fell into line with the others. She imagined Amanda Waller in flames, screaming.   It was such a pleasant thought that she smiled.  It would be good. It would be beautiful. It would be _art_.  She was going to create a masterpiece with Amanda Waller’s blood and pain and suffering, the perfect final love letter to the love of her life, and Waller wasn’t even going to see it coming.  When the time was exactly right, she would strike so hard that Waller would wish she was back here surrounded by zombies.

 _Beware the fury of a patient woman,_ she thought.

 


End file.
